The More Things Change
by BMT and SuperMoose
Summary: G1: Over a hundred thousand vorns ago, the great Cybertronian scientist Skyfire was lost. Now he is found, but things have changed more than he could possibly have imagined. An AU fic by BlackMarketTrombones.
1. Prologue

A/N: And so it begins.

Let me tell you right now that I am not a hardcore Transformers fan. **Supermoose** just recently got me into it, but I am not exceptionally knowledgeable. If I screw up your favorite character, I'm really sorry. **Supermoose** tried to guide me in characterization, but she can only do so much with someone as stubborn as I am.

This fic is an AU with lots of fun, made-up history to fill in the blank spots that TF Wiki didn't tell me about. It's closest to G1. It's also the first multi-chapter fic I've ever posted. I'm excited. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I know I'll enjoy writing it.

And now, without further ado, the story.

---

Prologue: Impetus

When he came back online, it was eerily still. His optical sensors flickered on and off as he struggled to reboot and run diagnostics.

His damaged optics detected traces of energon spilled around him. Further investigation revealed that traces was the wrong word—huge swaths of the floor were slick with it. That went a long way toward explaining why the diagnostics results indicated he was functioning at thirty-three percent capacity. He would have to redirect energy from all non-essential functions, but that wouldn't be a problem. His most basic programming screamed at him to fight, to attack whatever had damaged him, but he considered his weapons systems, the most draining of his functions, superfluous. They would not be missed in the short time it would take to repair his fuel tank.

But first, he needed to ascertain what happened. His memory banks were frustratingly slow to reboot. They were on a mission—the Council actually supplied the ship, despite their disapproval. They were deep in the uncharted reaches of the galaxy, examining one of the planets there. Something happened… a storm? That seemed right. He remembered detecting it on the ship's sensors. It was of moderate force, easily within the capabilities of the ship to withstand, or so it had seemed.

Something went wrong. The ship… The planet was young and its surface was unstable. Emergency landing was impossible and chances of surviving an impact were miniscule. If they could get out of the atmosphere they'd be safe, but it would be risky and difficult to-

Jerking with a horrible, sinking sense of dread, he struggled ponderously to his pedes and staggered to the back of the cabin. He typed in the access code to open the blast doors—he didn't know when or why they'd been closed—and a warning flashed across the screen.

ACTION DECLINED. UNSAFE CONDITIONS.

He snarled in frustration and punched in the necessary override code.

The blast doors inched reluctantly onto… nothing. Just the empty blackness of deep space and the charred remains of the back of the ship.

"Skyfire!" he screamed uselessly into the empty vacuum. Unsurprisingly, there was no answer.

How could this have happened? The ship survived unscathed a worse storm less than a vorn ago. It was top-of-the-line, provided by the Cybertronian Council itself. They wouldn't cut corners with Cybertron's finest scientific mind on board, no matter how much they disapproved of Skyfire being on the expedition.

That was the strange thing, but then, the entire mission was strange. They _hated_ him, hated that a war-make was breaking into the field of science, but why were they upset about Skyfire, the very model of what a scientist should be, insisting on joining him? And when had deep space exploration become so important to them? They'd never paid any particular mind to that branch of science before. It just didn't make sense-

It struck him as he was absentmindedly fingering the scorched edges of the ship. _Scorched,_ though there was nothing flammable where they were. Scorched, and with his sensors picking up traces of Cybertronian explosives on the twisted metal.

He closed the blast doors and began plotting a new course on the ship's navigational systems. His first priority was to get to the energy deposit they discovered on the way there. He needed to become fully functional as soon as possible. It seemed he'd be needing his weapons systems after all.

---

A/N: Wow. I'm amazed with the response this has gotten. After three days, my 571 word prologue has three favorites, four reviews, and eight story alerts. Clearly, I've been writing for the wrong fandoms.

I hope I don't disappoint you.


	2. Chapter 1: Discovery

Chapter One: In Which a Discovery is Made

"-so it's really crazy how many different climate zones there are on this one tiny little planet, but this one's _especially_ weird. I mean, how many planetary systems do you know of where Cybertronians can be incapacitated by the weather? I can't think of too many but there might be lots that I just don't know about because I never thought astrography was very interesting and I'm sure there's a ton that hasn't been discovered yet. You'd think deep space exploration would be a bigger deal than it is because you never know if the next system over's going to contain some valuable resource that will turn the tide of the war—Primus knows it's been going on long enough. Maybe it's a cultural thing, what with the Council equating centralization with solidarity when it was around, which isn't a _bad_ thing, necessarily, but-"

"Bluestreak," Hound said firmly. "We're on a scouting detail in no-mech's-land. Decepticons could drop in on us at any astrosecond. Now is probably not the best time for politics."

"Sorry," Bluestreak replied, abashed. "You know how I get sometimes, especially when I'm on edge, and all this ice is-"

"Blue," Hound admonished gently.

Bluestreak opened his mouth to apologize again but snapped it shut guiltily, making an effort to be quiet. Silence reigned for a few groons as they warily surveyed the frozen artic tundra. The chunk of ice held little tactical value and both the Autobots and the Decepticons were stretched too thinly to maintain an outpost there. However, that did not negate the feasibility of using the artic to sneak around the enemies' primary defenses, so both factions ran regular patrols of the area. A major skirmish had been avoided thus far, but the possibility was too plausible to dismiss.

Bluestreak was beginning to fidget. "Hound, I-"

"Just a breem, Blue," he interrupted. "I'm picking something up on the scanners."

"A Decepticon?" he asked in agitation.

"Could be, but it's way past where they normally come. We have to check it out."

They veered off course and Bluestreak said, "How strong is the signal?"

"Very weak," Hound responded. "If it _is_ a mech, he must be near-deactivated. If it's a Decepticon, he shouldn't be difficult to deal with. That doesn't seem likely, though. No 'Con would be this far out of his territory alone. Unless they've discovered some way to shield themselves and are lying in wait to ambush us. Either way, we need to let them know at the base."

They slowed as Hound radioed in to the Autobot headquarters. "Hound, reporting in."

A moment of static, then, "Prowl to Hound, we hear you. Have you run into trouble?"

"Not yet. Bluestreak and I picked up an energy signal on the scanners. What are the odds of it being another Autobot?"

"Zero. Everyone else is engaged elsewhere. Do you recognize the energy signal?"

"No."

"Do you have a reading on what kind of firepower it might have?"

Hound frowned slightly. "Nothing's registering. The signal's very weak, though, so any weapons systems could be offline to conserve energon. Should we move to engage?"

"Would it take you very far past our territory?"

"Roughly two hundred kilometers. We're already about fifty outside the usual patrols," he admitted.

One could practically _feel_ the disapproval radiating over the comm. link. "That would put you about equidistant between our lines and theirs. I don't like it."

"Should we pull back?"

There was a moment of silence as Prowl mulled over the options. "No. Move in, but do _not_ engage without contacting me. Radio in within the joor or I'll assume you're unable to and take necessary action."

"Understood. Hound, out." He turned to Bluestreak, who was fidgeting anxiously, and waved at him to follow.

When they reached the source of the mysterious energy signal, their allotted time was almost up. The footing was treacherous; millennia ago, a glacier passed through, scouring deep gouges in the ice that were made invisible by a blanket of snow.

"Go ahead and start searching while I contact Prowl," Hound told Bluestreak, "but be careful. We don't want to stay out here any longer than we have to."

"Sure thing, Hound, I'll get right on it. You can count on me, and don't worry, I'll be so careful you won't even-"

"Blue," Hound interrupted patiently. Bluestreak sheepishly snapped his mouth shut and set about his given task. "Hound, reporting in."

The response was immediate. "Prowl to Hound. Any problems so far?"

"None yet. Bluestreak's already-"

"Primus!"

Hound whipped around. A short distance away, Bluestreak stood, waving frantically at him.

"I-I just went to where the signal was strongest and started digging," he stammered as Hound ran over.

"What's going on?" Prowl demanded.

Hound peered down into the hole Bluestreak dug in the snow and stared though the ice it had hidden.

"Prowl," he said finally, "I think we found what was giving off that foreign energy signal."

"Well?"

"It's a hand," he stated evenly. "A very large hand that is trapped in ice. Presumably, it is attached to a mech that is equally immobilized."

A beat. "How long has it been there?"

Hound paused. "We could run tests. Find out the carbon content of the air trapped in the ice, but it would take a while to haul the necessary equipment out here and we don't have that kind of time."

"Why don't we just dig him up and ask him?" Bluestreak interjected.

Hound relayed his suggestion to Prowl, who deliberated for a moment. "Start digging, but stop immediately if there's any indication that he's a Decepticon. Jazz is going to meet up with you, but it'll be at least a joor before he gets there."

"Understood, Prowl. Hound, out." He turned back to his comrade. "Keep digging, Blue. Let's see what kind of mech we've found."

---

His sensory input receptors were slow to return online. The audio sensors came first, fuzzily filtering unfamiliar speech through static.

"Do you think he'll be alright?"

"It's hard to say. Ice is an excellent preserver—there's hardly any entropy—but it's a unique case."

"I wonder how long he's been offline. He doesn't have any identifying markers on him, so he must be a Neutral, unless he's a spy, but it seems like it would be hard to be a spy if you're that big and I've never seen him spying on or for us, so I really think he's a Neutral. He _is_ a bit burnt, though, so he might have been caught in a fight, unless it was just from crashing. I don't know why a Neutral would be way out here where all the fighting is, so maybe he came here before us? Just think, he could've been stuck here for _vorns!_"

Ugh. His CPU couldn't follow this speaker yet. Not while he was still trying to figure out where he was and how he ended up there. The last thing he remembered was-

Suddenly everything came back to him and he jerked up, optics flashing online.

The ship was nowhere in sight, but with the amount of explosives he'd found packed in it, this was hardly unexpected. What _was_ unexpected were the two smaller mechs standing some distance away. He was deep in the uncharted regions of outer space, there shouldn't be any other Cybertronians there, unless…

"You are here to ensure that I am deactivated," he stated blandly, with a hint of resignation. It was the only explanation that made sense. While it was almost certainly his partner that the Council aimed to destroy, they couldn't leave him alive as a witness to their treachery. No wonder they had argued so strongly against him going.

They would have no difficulty extinguishing his spark; two hardened war-makes against his weaponless self was nowhere close to an even match. He realized with a jolt that the fact that both of them were focusing their attention on him meant his partner, the actual threat, was probably already disposed of. It was exceptionally depressing how much effort the Council had put into preserving the caste system.

"Not yet," the green one, obviously the leader, said, breaking into his thoughts. "Unfortunately, that could change within the next few breems. Who are you?"

Perhaps he was wrong. Surely a mercenary would not need to gain the trust of a mech he intended to kill. "My name is Skyfire," he said eventually, since neither of them made any motion to either harm him or reassure him of their sincerity.

"I'm Bluestreak!" the small, gray mech interjected eagerly, and he didn't stop there. "You can call me Blue, though. Almost everybody does-"

"And I'm Hound," the leader interrupted smoothly. "What are you doing here, Skyfire?"

"Deep space exploration," he responded as vaguely as possible, still not willing to trust the two mechs despite their friendly demeanor.

Hound looked skeptical. "Maybe you're lost, then. This is deep space, but I wouldn't call it uncharted."

Skyfire frowned. In the frictionless vacuum of space, the force from the explosion could have knocked him a far distance, of course, but he was almost sure he hadn't been out of the atmosphere of the planet they were studying. Why hadn't he been caught by its gravitational pull?

Bluestreak, like a reluctant dam, finally burst. "You're really lucky we found you way out here. You landed in the most remote place on this planet _and_ right between us and Decepticon lines. Some of the previous patrols probably missed you. It's pretty weird how we didn't detect you crashing, but I guess the Decepticons didn't either since they didn't come get you first-"

"What are you talking about?" Skyfire broke in. "What's a Decepticon?"

The tumultuous flow of words abruptly ceased and they stared at him in shock before Hound found his vocalizer. "How long have you been offline?"

Skyfire silently berated himself for not having checked his internal chronometer the moment he woke up and did so. After a moment, he said, "I must be damaged."

"Why is that?"

"It says I haven't been online in over one hundred twenty thousand vorns."

Bluestreak gaped, too shocked even to speak, but Hound nodded and said, "If you've never heard of the Decepticons, that sounds about right. Blue, try to fill him in a bit while I contact Prowl."

Snapping out of his stupor, Bluestreak immediately began to blather. "It all started a really long time ago—over a hundred thousand vorns—so I don't really know everything because I hadn't been sparked yet and none of the ones who were like to talk about it too much but-"

As Skyfire couldn't understand a word he was saying, he didn't feel too bad about tuning Bluestreak out and straining his audio receptors to eavesdrop on Hound.

"Prowl," he said quietly. Skyfire shifted slightly so as to hear him better. Bluestreak continued, oblivious. "Something's come up." A muted response, too low for him to hear. "No nothing like that…Not at all…Well, the mech—says his name is Skyfire—he's been offline for a while." He paused, reconsidering his words. "That's too much of an understatement. Over a hundred thousand vorns." There was a long pause filled with Bluestreak's chatter ("-but he's _sneakier_ than Megatron, which is pretty sneaky, and he's always trying to take over the Decepticons, but he never quite manages it because Megatron's stronger, even though he's really strong too, and smart, and a really good flier, but I guess you figured that since I told you he's Air Commander-"), then "No, he didn't even know what a Decepticon is…We'll met up with him on the way- Frag!" The incessant babble stopped and Bluestreak looked up in surprise. "Someone's coming," Hound said grimly.

"A Decepticon?" Bluestreak asked, agitated.

"Probably. Jazz is still over a quarter joor away." He turned to Skyfire. "How good are you in a fight?"

"Completely useless, unless either of you has a weapon you can spare," was his candid reply. "I lost mine along the way-"

"Wait," Hound interrupted. "You don't have any weapons at _all?_ You're a _peace_-model?"

"Yes," Skyfire said, nonplussed. "What's so strange about that?"

"There… aren't that many peace-models sparked anymore. It wouldn't be fair, throwing a mech out into the middle of this crazy war with no means of defending himself."

"I've never seen one before," Bluestreak said, looking up in awe. "What do you do with all the extra energy you have since you don't use it for-"

"Later, Blue," Hound broke in. "Right now we've got to move." They set off at a brisk pace, Skyfire following more because he had nowhere else to go than because he trusted them, but a few breems later, Hound said, "He's catching up fast. Must be a flier, maybe even a Seeker. I can give us some cover, but he'll still come to check out our energy signals. It'll probably come to a fight. If so, we'll stay hidden while Bluestreak snipes at him. In the meantime, keep moving. If we're lucky, we'll meet up with Jazz before he catches up with us."

---

A/N: Three guesses who's coming. :)

I plan to try to update every week, so I'll see you all next weekend! Provided you still want to stick around of course.


	3. Chapter 2: Meeting

Chapter Two: Meeting

Starscream was livid. Granted, it was not exceptionally unusual for him to be so incensed, but the regularity of his ill-temper did nothing to ease it.

"Slag it all!" he howled, shaking his wings for what felt like the umpteenth time to rid them of ice. With nothing to relieve his frustration on, he resorted to muttering angrily about Megatron.

"-sending _me,_ his slagging _Air Commander,_ out to this Primus-forsaken _wasteland_ on a _fool's_ errand!" he spat out vehemently. "Any _simpleton_ could tell that when a mech sees energy signals that aren't there, he's _obviously_ glitched in the head!"

The scientist in him argued that, as more than one mech had been witness to the strange phenomenon, it certainly merited further investigation. "They're all glitched," he insisted, sulking, unwilling to give up his temper and listen to the scientific logic that landed him in this situation.

Truth be told, it was probably less his speed and scientific expertise that caused Megatron to send him on this farce of a mission than it was that he'd been annoying. Very annoying. Tens of thousands of vorns of practice treading that thin line between subservience and outright rebellion did not make him incapable of overstepping it every once and a while.

And so he was forced out into this cold, icy tundra, investigating an anomalous reading that he didn't care about, with nothing to take out his aggression on except-

His scanners beeped as they picked up several energy signals moving away from the coordinates he'd been given. He sped up. There were no other Decepticons in this area and any Autobots this far out of their territory were fair game. Perhaps this assignment wouldn't be so bad after all.

---

"Jazz won't make it here in time," Hound announced, slowing to a stop. "The mech following us is too fast—definitely a Seeker. Hold still for a breem so I can hide us."

"How?" Skyfire asked, puzzled. Their barren surroundings were completely devoid of any useful outcroppings that could provide cover.

"Hound can create holograms," Bluestreak explained. "It's pretty cool and it really comes in handy on high-risk patrol details like this."

"Done," Hound said with satisfaction. "Anyone flying over us will just see more snow." He saw Skyfire studying himself curiously. "We aren't affected because we're inside the hologram. It's a bit like a two-way mirror; we can see out of the hologram but no one can see in."

"Fascinating," Skyfire murmured, forgetting the danger in his absorption. "How are you able to-?"

He was interrupted by a dull roar. In unison, they turned to the horizon, where a speck in the sky was rapidly approaching.

"Definitely a Seeker-model," Hound repeated grimly. "Get ready, Blue."

Bluestreak was already squinting through the scope of a long, thin rifle. "He's pretty high, but I think I can reach him." He frowned. "Provided he doesn't start moving erratically." The dull roar became a penetrating boom as the Decepticon flew past far overhead.

"Primus, he's fast," Hound said, optics narrowed. "I can't make out who it is."

"He's doubling back. Should I try to get a shot in?"

"Not yet. He may be returning to his base…"

The words died in his vocalizer as the jet turned around for yet another pass. Wordlessly, Bluestreak looked to Hound and, when he nodded, lined up a shot with his rifle and fired.

---

Starscream doubled back, suspicious of the innocuous expanse of snow below. The signals were as strong as ever, but no one was there. Of course, the reports said as much, but they also detailed only one weak energy signal that stayed in place. That didn't correlate at all with his findings.

He glanced below—and immediately peeled off to the side, rolling frantically to avoid being struck by a shot that quite literally came from nowhere. He felt the unbearable heat from the blast-

---

"Did you hit him?" Skyfire asked tensely, watching the display overhead with morbid fascination.

"He dodged," Bluestreak replied simply, lining up another shot. "It didn't even graze him."

---

Starscream righted himself well out of range of fire, optics narrowed at the empty ground.

---

"He's out of range," Bluestreak said apologetically. "Sorry, Hound. I thought I had him, but he must have incredible reflexes to dodge so quickly and-"

"It's in the past, Blue," Hound said gently, but with a hint of trepidation. "Don't worry about it."

"He looks like he's waiting for something," Skyfire remarked.

"Probably hoping we'll take another shot at him so he can pinpoint our position," he explained. "We'll have to try to wait him out, hope he'll get curious or bored enough to come back in range."

---

"Slaggit," Starscream muttered in angry realization at who must be below. There was at least one other—someone who was an excellent shot. He burned up with humiliation thinking of those Autobots watching him circle overhead, completely oblivious as they casually sniped at him. He certainly couldn't allow them to escape unscathed now.

---

"Get down!" Hound shouted, and everything exploded around them.

---

Starscream smirked down at the destruction caused by his cluster bombs. It achieved the desired effect: a stretch of the plain was marred and melted, but a bit near the edge wavered uncertainly before solidifying into an even patch of pristine snow.

He grinned maliciously and dropped into a steep dive.

---

"Bluestreak, status!" Hound barked, knee joint deep in sloshy snow.

"I'm fine," he responded almost cheerfully. "Just a few scuffs and dents—cosmetic damage, mostly."

"Skyfire?"

"I think I got hit by some shrapnel," he said, examining his forearm clinically. "It's not deep though." He was very pleased that his voice remained level as he continued. "Are all battles like this?"

"This doesn't count as a battle," Hound said with a preoccupied air. "It's barely even a skir- Move!"

---

Starscream swooped low to pummel the area with more cluster bombs. As he pulled up into a steep ascent, he ran into something.

---

Skyfire pushed himself up from the ground—or puddle, rather—where Hound shoved him to avoid the incoming Decepticon. He staggered slightly, but he'd evaded the brunt of the attack again.

Bluestreak was not so lucky. Groaning, he struggled to his knees, a difficult feat with one arm hanging limp at his side and the other a sparking stump at the elbow. Hound was nowhere to be seen.

---

Starscream twisted and watched with a certain amount of satisfaction as the Autobot tumbled to the ground. He was surprised—but not disappointed—that he managed to hang on for so long, allowing him to reach such a high altitude. He dove again as the hologram flickered out of existence.

---

Skyfire looked up just in time to be squished by Hound. He flailed a bit under the slush before he managed to shove the very obviously offline mech onto a more solid clump of snow.

---

Starscream grabbed the other Autobot—now visible—and held him up by the throat. Noting his incapacitation, he grinned wickedly and squeezed.

---

Skyfire gaped. From the back, the Seeker holding Bluestreak aloft looked like… But that couldn't be. The behavior difference was enough to dismiss the alarming similarities in physical appearance.

He stepped forward tentatively, unsure of what he could do to help Bluestreak, who was making small choking noises, but determined to do something.

"Die, Autobot!"

He froze. Bluestreak's optics flickered and he sagged as he went offline. There was no mistaking those vocal patterns. He took another step forward.

"Starscream?"

The Seeker whipped about in an instant, optics narrowed in rage, gun instinctively trained on this previously unnoticed threat. Skyfire ignored it.

Any doubt that lingered at the back of his central processor was immediately dispelled. He seemed a bit sharper, somehow, and a lot harder, but it was unmistakably Starscream.

Starscream's optics widened, alight with recognition and disbelief and something strangely akin to fear. Bluestreak, forgotten, fell from his limp grasp. He stepped back.

Confused and surprised to have elicited such a reaction, Skyfire began approaching Starscream again, only for him to backpedal rapidly, optics flickering as if he was trying to focus them. For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then, without a word, Starscream jumped into the air and was gone.

---

A/N: Drama! How I love it.

I'm afraid I'm about to disappoint some of you. When you review a story of mine or favorite or add it to your alerts, etc., I check out your profile. I've noticed that many of you are into the Skyfire/Starscream slash pairing. I have to tell you right now, this is not intended to be a romance story, partly because I can't write romance worth crap. If you want to see that in this, be my guest, but don't get your hopes up for some smut or anything.

Until next week!


	4. Chapter 3: Interlude

Chapter Three: Interlude

Jazz knew he was too late when he saw the Seeker jetting off into the distance, but that didn't stop him from quickening his pace, though he'd thought he'd been going as fast as he could, hoping against hope that it wasn't a lost cause.

His spark leapt when, as he approached, he saw a huge white mech—larger even than Optimus Prime—standing and staring forlornly up. If there was one survivor, there could be more.

Any plan to find out what happened from the strange mech vanished when he saw Hound lying offline in a pile of slush. A quick check showed that he had suffered no permanent damage; he was just moderately scorched and dented and severely jostled. Jazz sighed in relief.

Bluestreak, however, was less fortunate. Only a single gray door-wing was visible, and he did not move when Jazz hoisted him out of the snow.

"Frag," he muttered, setting him next to Hound as gently as he could. It would be a blow to Blue's sanity—and that of everyone around him—if he was cooped up in the _Ark_ indefinitely, but he didn't seem to be in danger of being deactivated.

Finally, he turned to the other mech, who was still staring at the sky as if he expected it to fall on him, apparently unaware of his company.

"Hey," Jazz said, tugging at his elbow joint to get his attention and trying to appear as harmless as possible. "You wouldn't know where Blue's arm is, would ya?"

His dazed and surprised expression as he shook his massive head confirmed Jazz's suspicion that he was in shock. It was a situation that called for delicacy.

"Wanna help me find it?" A perfectly mindless and simple yet useful task to keep his mind off his horror. "It'll take less time to reattach it than it will to build one from scratch, an' Blue'll want outta the med bay ASAP."

His customary grin broadened when the other mech nodded and began fumbling around in the slushy snow. Exuding relaxed reassurance, he joined him and said, "Name's Jazz, by the way."

"Skyfire," he said jumping at the hoarseness of his own voice.

Jazz nodded. He already knew this, of course, as Prowl saw fit to relay every bit of information pertaining to the unique situation the moment he received it from Hound, but intimidating someone who'd just experienced such an alarming joor by knowing everything about him did not seem to be the wisest course of action.

"Pleased to meet'cha."

His disarming demeanor was doing the trick. Skyfire was relaxing into something resembling composure. Now to ease into the topic he was really interested in.

"Primus, this place is a wreck," he commented casually. "Looks like ya got nailed by a coupl'a cluster bombs."

"Is that what those were?" Skyfire said faintly. He flinched slightly and lifted the elusive limb out of the snow.

"You found it!" Jazz cheered. "Great! Now we can start headin' back to…" He trailed off. Skyfire had returned to his dazed perusal of the sky. "This the first firefight ya been in?" he asked gently.

"No! Well, I've never seen a physical fight between Cybertronians before," he admitted. "Not since the Academy, which doesn't really count, but I'm an explorer! I- We- Hostile aliens!" he blurted out. "I shot some once. They were trying to eat the ship…" His optics became distant and unfocused at the memory. There was silence.

"How could this have happened?" Skyfire mumbled, and Jazz could tell from the sorrow in his voice that he wasn't just talking about the war.

"What happened, Skyfire?" he asked soothingly.

"I don't know!" he burst out, obviously not talking about the same thing as Jazz. "It doesn't make any sense! He was bitter, yes, and with good reason, but he _hated_ being a war-mech, _loathed_ every stereotype that said he was suited only for destruction, _despised_ the restrictions it placed on his scientific career. Why would he…?" He looked at the sky, toward the Decepticon lines and Jazz had a sudden premonition that things were about to become very complicated.

He asked anyway. "What'cha talkin' 'bout?"

"My partner," he said emptily. "My friend." Jazz's sense of drama and climax was not disappointed when Skyfire turned back to him and said, "Starscream."

---

Starscream did not bother to fill out a mission report when he returned to the _Nemesis. _He was in a towering rage; of course, everyone was used to this and, given the conditions under which he left, expected it and knew to stay out of his way as he stormed down the hallways.

He slammed the door to his quarters and began pacing up and down a well-worn path along his room. All the shock and horror he felt in the arctic was long since shunted aside by burning humiliation.

"Idiot!" he muttered scathingly, but quietly in case he had missed any of the recording devices Megatron used to keep an optic on him. (Soundwave installed them but it was a wasted effort since they were easily deactivated once found.) "It was _obviously_ a trick. Deactivated mechs do _not_ simply return to life at inconvenient times. That fragging Autobot must have been less damaged than I realized."

'_How would an Autobot know anything about your life before the war?'_ an irritatingly logical voice in the back of his CPU argued.

"A hallucination, then," he snarled. "I _have_ exceeded the recommended period between maintenance checks."

'_You're in the med bay every other orn because of Megatron,'_ the voice insisted, _'and the multiple diagnostics you ran on the way here indicate you're functioning normally.'_

"Shut up," Starscream snapped. The same argument had been running through his central processor since it cleared of the shock of seeing his old partner and the result had not changed.

With a frustrated growl, he slammed his fist into the wall, adding to the sizable collection of dents and scrapes he'd created in similar fits of rage. He examined the mark, temper only slightly mitigated by the outburst, before his optics involuntarily drifted to the side. There his personal computer sat, and behind a veritable fortress of codes and encryptions that only he knew were, among other things, records of every mission and project he'd ever worked, including those before the war. It couldn't hurt to just take a look…

"_Starscream!_" Megatron roared. His voice rumbled down the corridors of the _Nemesis_ and Decepticons, recognizing the belligerence in his tone, ran for cover.

"_What?_" Starscream shrieked insolently. There was a blast and a seething Megatron stood framed by his smoking doorway. "Great," he said, absolutely oozing sarcasm. "That's the third door of mine you've vaporized in the past twelve orns. I know it may sound outlandish, but perhaps you could experiment with simply _opening_ the next one instead of gunning your-" He was cut off abruptly when Megatron sent him careening into a wall. Clearly he was still too peeved about the previous insubordination to handle this new one well. Almost the moment Starscream slumped to the ground, he felt himself lifted aloft by the throat.

'_Interesting role-reversal,'_ the annoying bit of him commented casually, calling up an image of the gray Autobot. It was ignored in favor of coughing and sputtering.

"I grow tired of your insolence," Megatron growled menacingly, tightening his grip. "I want a _full_ report _now._ What did you find?"

"Nothing!" Starscream choked out, finger digits scrabbling against his iron grip. It only tightened. "S'true! Jus' some… Autobot patrol…"

"Are they deactivated?"

"Couldn' check… reinforcements…" A warning signal was blinking at him. It was annoying.

Disgusted, Megatron tossed him across the room. "You never learn," he growled as Starscream stood and staggered to the side. "The next time you try to push your luck you will not find me so forgiving." With that, he stormed away.

"Moody son of a glitch," Starscream muttered angrily, tenderly rubbing his sore throat. Grumbling, he hauled a med pack out from under his recharge berth and began patching himself up. Fortunately, the damage wasn't severe this time and it did not take too long.

Unfortunately, with nothing to distract him, his thoughts returned to the gleaming computer console sitting in the corner with smug anticipation. After glaring uselessly at it for a few moments, he grudgingly yielded to his curiosity and sat before it, but only to reaffirm the impossibility of what that nagging corner of him insisted.


	5. Chapter 4: History

Chapter Four: A Lesson in History

The trek to the Autobot headquarters was long, quiet, and awkward. After his astonishing revelation, Skyfire did not wish to talk anymore and Jazz did not press him. He relayed the startling development to Prowl and they began walking.

As Skyfire did not have a suitably inconspicuous alt mode and Hound and Bluestreak were in no fit state to transform, Optimus Prime was going to meet up with them somewhere devoid of human habitation and transport them in secret. When he heard this, Skyfire snapped out of his stupor long enough to be delighted.

"A Prime?" he asked in awe. "A _real_ Prime? That's the stuff of _legends!_"

"_You're_ the stuff of legends," Jazz countered with a grin. It was not an exaggeration; most of the Autobots on base only knew of peace-makes as something out of a history data pad, mechs that were nearly wiped out by a war they couldn't defend themselves from.

To Skyfire's credit, he lasted longer than Jazz thought he would. It was nearly a joor before he abruptly stopped and asked the question that must have been nagging at him since the moment he realized it was his old partner that was tearing across the sky like an agent of Unicron.

"How?" he mumbled, distraught. "How could this have happened? Starscream, a war of a hundred thousand vorns…"

"With no end in sight," Jazz said grimly. He sighed. "Can't help ya with Starscream. He came outta nowhere. Single-handedly slaughtered the whole Council too. Don't know a thing about him from before—no one does. S'pretty much what started everything."

He gently laid Bluestreak on the ground and sat down beside him. He would have carried Hound, the heavier of the two, but he couldn't lift both and Skyfire was upset enough without the constant reminder of Blue's gruesome damage. The other mech soon followed suit.

"Gotta realize," Jazz continued conversationally, "I was only a youngling—just a few vorns old—when it all happened. Don't remember it too clearly. Didn't really understand. S'amazin' I made it out alive.

"I'm a war-make so I was second-class of course, but that was all I knew an' I didn't think anything of it. S'prolly why I wasn't drawn in by all the rumors 'bout a rebellion. Every orn ya'd hear horror stories about some peace-make gettin' jumped by war-makes in the night. There was a bigger problem with armed peace-makes jumpin' war-makes if ya can believe it, but those stories didn't spread so fast. I was young so I didn't catch much flack for bein' a war-model, but there was always someone disappearin', bein' beaten, bein' murdered, an' while everybody was so busy bein' terrified, the ranks of the rumored rebellion swelled."

"Tumultuous times," Skyfire murmured.

"Very. All of Cybertron was teeterin' on the brink of insanity. One shove an' we'd be consumed by chaos an' anarchy. One spark was all it would take for everything to erupt into hatred an' violence."

"And Starscream was that spark."

"'Xactly," Jazz said bleakly. "I couldn't really go out after that; no war-model could be caught alone if he valued his skidplate. It was too dangerous. Plenty of mechs thought he was the leader of the rebellion even though he only seemed int'rested in murderin' the Council; didn't put up a fight once they were all dead. He was to be executed 'publicly an' with ceremony.' A social event where mechs could watch as the chaos ended an' order was restored. He had a big audience. I was too scared to go. Wanted to, 'cause it seemed like it was his fault everything went wrong, but like I said, it was just too dangerous. Turns out I was lucky 'cause that's when everything went straight to the Pit.

"Megatron an' his rebel army, the Decepticons, crashed the execution, busted Starscream outta there an' proceeded to massacre the attendees. The Matrix of Leadership chose a Prime an' the rest of us had to choose a side: Autobots or Decepticons. Both had the same ultimate goal, to restore order an' equality to Cybertron, but we go about it very diff'rently. Some tried to stay neutral, of course. Didn't work out so well for most of 'em. Decepticons tend to think anyone who isn't with 'em's against 'em. Neutrals are almost as rare as peace-makes now."

"And… Starscream?"

"Next time anyone saw him he was sportin' the Decepticon insignia an' servin' as Megatron's Second-in-Command an' Air Commander. He's kept that rank since then."

Skyfire absorbed this in silence. "Then… Starscream is a killer?"

"We're in a war," Jazz said softly. "It's kill or be killed." He sighed. "But Starscream's a particularly merciless warrior."

He watched Skyfire droop as depression settled over him. He stood, lifting Bluestreak's prone form. "S'been tens of thousands of vorns, Skyfire. Things change."

Skyfire looked up sadly. "They shouldn't change _that_ much."

---

Starscream shuttered his optics and lowered his head into his hands.

He'd known they were in the same region, of course, but of all the planets in all the star systems in the galaxy, he just _had_ to crash on this one.

'_It _was_ him, you know,'_ the voice said smugly. _'Skyfire.' _Starscream flinched at the name. _'He's been trapped in the ice on this backwater little planet for all these vorns.'_

He couldn't argue anymore; he wouldn't be able to believe it, not with the star charts staring him down from the computer screen as evidence. Skyfire, his partner, his stolid friend, whose death drove him to cheat and murder and lie for the sake of revenge, was alive. Skyfire, the pacifist, who hated violence and injustice and bigotry more than anyone, was in Autobot hands, learning of every heinous act he'd committed since he lost him a hundred twenty thousand vorns ago.

What could he do? He tried to convince himself that Skyfire of all mechs would understand, would agree, would support his actions, but the niggling voice in the back of his head didn't even have to say anything for him to know it was a vain hope. Skyfire had been preserved, unchanged, in ice for tens of thousands of vorns. He could not comprehend the horrors of warfare. He could not fathom the ravages wrought by time. He could not understand.

Starscream groaned and slumped forward. All these vorns, and he'd been alive. After all these vorns, what could he do?

What could he do?

---

A/N: What's this? A double update? And it's _early?_ Don't get used to it - I only posted both of these chapters because they're too short for me to count them as satisfying chapters in good conscience. They're up early because the wireless is down at my house and I had to find some restaurant to post them at.

On another note, history is fun to make up!

Next week: interesting things! And when I say interesting things, I mean a battle!

Edit: Many, many thanks to **teotw** for pointing out that **Supermoose**'s comments were left in the third chapter. You are a lifesaver, and that is no exaggeration!


	6. Chapter 5: Settling In

Chapter Five: Settling In

Optimus Prime surveyed the visitor over steepled fingers. Skyfire looked absolutely miserable, which was not surprising given everything that had been thrown at him in the past few joors. He'd barely vocalized a word since he and the others had been picked up somewhere in Canada.

Upon their arrival at the base Ratchet had declared him "stable for the moment" and turned his attention to Bluestreak and Hound. The damage they suffered promised to keep the medic occupied for quite some time and Optimus decided to take that time as an opportunity to find out more about the massive mech. They were seated in his office, which would have been comfortable if not for the suffocating silence that filled the air and crowded down on them.

He broke it by sighing after a few awkward moments. "I'll be honest, Skyfire. I'm at a complete loss as to what to do with this situation," Optimus admitted. He felt amused at Skyfire's shocked expression. "Surprised? The Matrix of Leadership does not, unfortunately, grant me infallibility and the circumstances you are in are… unique. I hope you will not be offended to learn that we are somewhat hesitant to trust you."

"Because of Starscream."

"He has been a very powerful enemy of ours for a long time."

Skyfire sighed. "That doesn't make any sense. The Starscream I knew would never…" He trailed off.

There was a pause. "We never speak of who we were before," Optimus said softly, "never stop to consider that anyone may have been anything other than what they are now. War changes things drastically in the beginning, but once the initial outburst expends itself, things stay at a stalemate until something equally dramatic tips the balance of power."

"That still doesn't explain anything," Skyfire said miserably. "He was angry and bitter, I know, and he had good reason to be, but to murder the Council?"

Optimus' optics were alight with curiosity but he did not press Skyfire. He did not need to. Desperate to lighten the burden on his spark, he continued without prompting.

"I think the Head hoped we wouldn't get along with each other when he assigned us to be partners. It would have been an excuse to get rid of him if he couldn't work with _me. _I had always worked well with anyone I was paired with; him, not so much. I suspect it wasn't entirely his arrogance and sarcasm that drove his previous partners away. War-models weren't supposed to be scientists, especially not _good_ scientists, and they certainly weren't supposed to be smarter than peace-makes. Most couldn't stand it.

"We did get along though. More than that, we became fast friends. We balanced each other out—him as impulsive and headstrong as I was orderly and calm—and I wasn't too proud to admit that he was brilliant, more so than anyone I'd ever worked with or met, though he never believed me when I said he was better than me.

"We quickly became a force to be reckoned with. Many considered me to be one of the greatest scientists ever sparked and that reputation lent legitimacy to our discoveries. Everyone still hated Starscream, of course, no matter how many times I told them that we both contributed equally in our partnership. That's probably why he became so interested in astrography. He didn't like dealing with anyone other than me."

Skyfire paused, as if reluctant to continue. He did so, but only vaguely. "We accepted an exploration assignment from the Council. In some uncharted region of deep space, we were struck by a storm and that's the last thing I remember before Hound and Bluestreak brought me back online."

Optimus studied him for a moment. Skyfire did not seem to be lying but something didn't quite add up. He wasn't telling the whole truth but he seemed unwilling to discuss it further. "That certainly explains a few things," he said.

"Like what?"

"Starscream's trial was broadcast live across all of Cybertron," Optimus explained. "He was completely without remorse. I believe his exact words were 'If I killed a hundred more like them I would still not be satisfied.'" He looked at Skyfire solemnly. "Grief can do strange things to a mech."

Skyfire wilted.

---

The other Autobots were wary of Skyfire, something he did nothing to dissuade them from by practically locking himself away in the room provided for him after Ratchet proclaimed him to be healthy. The only time anyone ever saw him was when he left to get energon, usually high-grade. It was almost two-orns before Jazz got fed up and burst in on him.

"Go 'way," Skyfire grumbled, only half-online. Ignoring his protests, Jazz hauled him off the recharge berth and into the hall, a difficult task considering the size difference.

"Ya've sulked long enough," he announced, tugging him along behind him. "I've made it my sacred duty to drag ya outta this bleak depression whether ya like it or not." He shoved him through a door into an empty room. "Perceptor! Fancy seein' _you_ here!"

Skyfire looked around. No one was there. Then a red microscope flipped around into a red mech.

"These _are_ the science facilities, Jazz," the mech, Perceptor, said, looking bemused.

"What a coincidence! Skyfire here just happens to be a scientist! Looks like ya got somethin' in common! My goodness, did'ja just hear the twins? I better see what they're getting' into. I'll just leave you two to get acquainted with each other. 'Bye!"

"I believe he may be subtly attempting to tell us something," Perceptor said with a chuckle after he was gone.

"…It would seem so."

"I'm afraid I'm not working on anything of particular interest at the moment, but you're welcome to join me should you choose so."

Skyfire hesitated. Without Starscream it wouldn't be the same, but it didn't seem like things would ever be the same again.

"I think I'd like that," he said finally.

---

Most of the Decpticons didn't notice the change in Starscream. He was moody and aloof, yes, but not dramatically more so than usual. He was just moderately more subdued than his ordinary melodramatic self. Even fewer were curious as to the change, and they knew better than to waste their time asking him. Starscream's pride was notorious.

He was binging on high-grade in his quarters when Megatron barged in, thankfully not reducing the door to cinders.

"Rally the troops," he ordered. "We're going on a raid."

---

"Back again?" Ratchet grumbled, stepping away from the red minibot Skyfire recognized as Cliffjumper. "What blew up this time?"

"Power generator," Skyfire said sheepishly, holding out an offline Wheeljack to the medic. "Perceptor is checking to make sure, but it appears that it was not calibrated properly."

Skyfire had become much better acquainted with Ratchet since Perceptor had introduced him to Wheeljack. Perceptor had more difficulty carrying the cheerful inventor after his experiments went awry, so the task of ambulance fell to him.

He was just about to leave when Jazz came in.

"How's Cliffjumper functionin'?" he asked.

"Not well enough for anything strenuous, if that's what you want to know. I don't know what the twins were trying to pull, but it must have backfired spectacularly to put him in this state."

"Guess that means battle's outta the question?"

"Absolutely." Ratchet frowned. "What's going on?"

"Some Decepticons're raidin' an oil refinery a fair distance away," Jazz explained. "We're tryin' to round up the fastest of us so we can get there in time. I'll have'ta spring the twins. Prowl won't be happy."

"I can transport you," Skyfire said suddenly. "My alt form is spacious. I can carry a number of your troops."

Jazz shot him an appraising look. "I expect ya'd be fairly conspicuous."

"I'll fly high." For whatever reason, Skyfire found himself wanting desperately to help put an end to this war, even if he could only contribute in this miniscule capacity. "I'm faster with less atmospheric pressure anyway."

"You'll be in the middle of a firefight," Jazz reminded him.

"I'll borrow a gun and stay out of the way."

"Starscream'll be there."

He hesitated, then his optics hardened with determination. "So? I can't hide from him forever and try to forget what he's become."

Jazz considered this for a moment then beckoned. "C'mon. Let's go run it by Prime."

---

Starscream seethed. He knew from the start that this plan—no, there was too little planning involved for it to deserve to be called a plan—was a disaster waiting to happen, but did Megatron listen to him? Of course not. Primus forbid he demean himself by using _logic._

It went well at first, he had to admit. They struck hard and fast, and Megatron was convinced they'd be gone by the time the Autobots could retaliate.

But that would be too easy. Somehow the Autobots arrived just as they were leaving and a mad scrambling for the energon ensued. The Decepticons managed to salvage most of it, but Megatron was stubbornly refusing to call for a retreat despite their heavily disadvantaged position at the bottom of a Primus-fragged gorge.

Starscream cursed and rolled to avoid a veritable torrent of boulders that dropped from the edge of the ravine. Fragging Autobots. They were making good use of their tactical advantage and it was nearly impossible to gain any altitude with rocks raining down at any given moment.

Nearly impossible, but Starscream was not just any Decepticon and the air was _his_ domain. Engines screaming, he burst through the stony defense and began firing at anything that moved. He didn't even realize until it was too late that included among his many targets was Skyfire.

He was standing to the side, slightly removed from the fighting, and looked utterly shocked when the blast struck his leg. It crumpled, and he glanced around wildly until he caught sight of Starscream and his expression became unfathomable.

Thoughts in a tumult, Starscream wheeled about in a daze. He soon snapped out of it when a shot rocketed straight up his thruster, and he careened back into the gorge, where the unyielding ground put an end to his problems for a while.

---

A/N: Ta-da! Okay, so it wasn't much of a battle, but it was a battle nonetheless! I swear I'll make it up to you in chapters 7 and 8, which will be epic.

Until next week!


	7. Chapter 6: Trapped

Chapter Six: Trapped

His return online was hastened by a stabbing pain shooting up his right leg. Biting back a hiss of pain, he checked his internal chronometer to find that nearly a joor had passed since his ignominious crash, which explained why he could no longer hear the sounds of battle. A diagnostic indicated that his left leg was severely damaged but the rest of him was functioning decently and he might be able to transform in a pinch.

Starscream turned his optics on and glared at the sky. Those slaggers had left him, but that was unsurprising. In fact, he was secretly relieved. He'd already catch enough flack for letting himself be shot out of the air; he didn't want to _owe_ anyone in addition to that. It didn't keep him from cursing loudly as he sat up though.

The source of the throbbing soon presented itself: much of his leg, already damaged by whoever shot him, was pinned under a boulder, which was wedged tightly in place. He growled in frustration when it refused to budge from its place and fired off a blast in an attempt to dislodge it.

It was an action he quickly regretted when someone cried out in alarm and several indistinct voices began moving toward him. Cursing more quietly this time, he checked his scanners and discovered three foreign energy signals converging on his position. Angrily berating himself for not making sure his position was secure the moment he woke up, he hurriedly keyed a command into his null rays. These could not be allowed to fall into enemy hands, and he could always rescind the command later if his concerns were unfounded.

As it turned out, they were not. A yellow head peered around a pile of rubble, only to be withdrawn with a squawk when Starscream fired at him. He needn't have bothered; it was difficult to aim from such an awkward, upside-down angle, and the shot went wide.

The hushed muttering that followed had a conspiratorial air and Starscream could only seethe as he waited for them to launch whatever attack they were planning. He had no doubt he would succumb to them eventually, much as it rankled to admit. His energon levels were far too low to withstand any sort of cohesive tactic for long, but he had no intention of submitting easily.

The yellow one was back and a red Autobot approached from a different direction. He sent them both into retreat and kept a wary optic out for the third but a quick scan indicated that he was moving away. Starscream became increasingly suspicious as the crazy slaggers repeated their futile attempt to advance. From their behavior, it seemed as if they were trying to provide a distraction, though from what he couldn't tell. Their comrade was too far away to do any damage, and if they were just trying to drain his energon it would be faster with all three of them.

Pushing this quandary aside to focus on the task at hand, he dimmed his optics and forced himself to relax as if in stasis lock. The yellow one edged cautiously out into the open. Starscream did not move. He inched closer, keeping his gun leveled at the fallen Seeker, and waved the other back. When he was far enough from cover, Starscream sprang into action and fired off three shots in a sweeping arc. As one, the Autobots yelped in surprise and the yellow one fell backwards, shoulder joint sparking.

Starscream grinned maliciously but did not feel confident. The shot, unfortunately, was not fatal and likely only served to temporarily incapacitate one Autobot and incense the other. The red one was shouting something, but he was distracted by the silver glint of metal off by the cliffside. There was the third, then, though what he planned to do from so far away-

A white-hot blast lanced into his side accompanied by dozens of warnings blaring about a ruptured fuel tank. Energon poured freely onto the rocks beside him. The Autobots cheered as he slumped, hissing in pain.

'_A good shot,'_ he acquiesced blearily, glaring at the gray mech just before all but his vital functions shut down to conserve energy. _'A very good shot.'_

---

"Skyfire," Wheeljack finally said with mild exasperation. "Relax. You're going to wear a hole in the floor and there are enough holes in this lab as it is."

Skyfire stopped pacing and looked down guiltily. "I'm sorry," he said sheepishly.

"There is no need to apologize," Perceptor said kindly. "We both are aware that you are… anxious."

Anxious did not even begin to cover it. He didn't know how he managed to keep his emotions in check when Bluestreak and the twins triumphantly hauled in Starscream, who was offline and near-deactivated from energon loss. He was in such a sorry state that Ratchet took one look at him and booted everyone from the med bay, insisting that a dead prisoner was no good to anyone and that's exactly what they'd have if they didn't get the slag out and let him work!

He could not even gain solace in the lab. Prowl stopped by earlier with a pair of long-barreled rifles, which he called null rays. It seemed that Starscream practiced science even as a warrior. Skyfire wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.

Perceptor and Wheeljack were considerately waiting until he left to begin studying Starscream's invention, but he was far too agitated to go out into the base. The lab had always been where he was most at home and he was in desperate need of any small amount of comfort he could glean. Not to mention the fact that every Autobot on the _Ark_ seemed to be watching him, waiting for him to go to pieces, and if he did, he would prefer to do so without an audience.

Reluctantly, Skyfire sat down and began drumming his finger digits on the table nervously, only to spring back to his feet a moment later when Jazz walked in.

"Hey," he called out cheerfully. "How's life in the lab?"

"Oh, fine," Wheeljack replied. "We're just looking over some old projects." He glanced longingly at the gleaming null rays.

"Too busy for a guard detail then, I guess."

"Guard?" Skyfire broke in. "What do you need a guard for?"

"What else? Ratchet said our incapacitated detainee should be comin' back online soon. We got him locked up, but we ain't gonna leave him alone. He's gotta well-deserved reputation for bein' sneaky an' resourceful."

"Why approach us on the matter?" Perceptor asked. "Surely a more experienced mech would be desirable in this delicate situation."

""Prob'ly," Jazz admitted, "but the only one who volunteered was Sideswipe and I don't think it's a good idea to let him near Starscream 'til Sunstreaker's patched up."

"Well, I suppose if no one else is willing…" Wheeljack started reluctantly, still gazing at the null rays.

"I'll do it."

No one was more surprise by the words coming out of his mouth than Skyfire himself.

"Ya sure?" Jazz asked evenly.

"Yes." Such an opportunity as this would probably never come again, and he needed to quell that small bit of him that insisted this monstrous killer could not be his friend Starscream.

Jazz hesitated a moment before delicately saying, "Gen'rally, when lookin' for volunteers to guard a potentially dangerous prisoner, ya look for someone who's got some means of deterrin' said prisoner from engagin' in disruptive behavior."

"I'll borrow another gun."

"Ya also look for someone without any sorta emotional tie to said prisoner."

"I'll get over it," Skyfire said darkly. Seeing that Jazz was still unconvinced, he said, "Please, Jazz. I need to do this." He still looked hesitant, so Skyire folded his arms across his chest and did his best to look unyieldingly determined.

"Alright," Jazz said finally. "But I'm puttin' Sideswipe right outside the brig. Promise you'll get him if anything comes up."

"I promise," Skyfire said firmly.

---

Prowl was frowning ominously when Jazz entered the control room. "Tell me," he said, not turning from the monitors in front of him, "why didn't you just assign someone to guard Starscream instead of insisting on finding a volunteer?"

"Couldn't abuse my authority like that," he said airily, sauntering forward. "Don't want there to be dissent in the ranks." He looked around. "Where's Red?"

"Med bay," Prowl said shortly. "His CPU fried when he saw you leading Skyfire into the brig." He turned around and glared at Jazz. "I know what you're up to."

Jazz had the gall to look bewildered. "Who, _me?_ What'cha mean, Prowl?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Prowl said, completely unfooled by his charade of innocence. "I don't know what you did to manipulate Skyfire into the brig alone with Starscream, but I'm not entirely convinced it was a good idea."

"Honestly?" Jazz dropped his act and peered almost nervously at the screen over Prowl's shoulder joint. It showed Skyfire absentmindedly fingering a data pad as he stared at Starscream's prone form. "Neither am I. I _do_ know it's gotta happen eventually, though, an' I'd rather keep it on our terms. Plus, I'm curious. There's somethin' he's not tellin' us, somethin' important. This might be our only chance to find out."

"I can assume, then, that you did not tell him of the security camera?"

"Yup."

Prowl's frown deepened, but he said nothing more on the matter, instead changing the subject. "Ratchet has something to tell us regarding Starscream, by the way. He said he'll be by once he finishes in the med bay and we're not to speak of it to anyone."

"Sounds serious." A flicker of movement on the monitor caught his attention. "Shh, I think Starscream's comin' back online. Les'see if we can get some answers."

---

A/N: No time to chat. Next week: climax! At least, I think it is. My plot chart on this story is wonky.


	8. Chapter 7: Fulcrum

Chapter Seven: Fulcrum

Starscream warily lay still, pretending to be offline as he tried to discover as much as he could about his surroundings.

Unsurprisingly, he found that the ground was smooth, even metal rather than the rough stone of the canyon he woke to last. He was doubtlessly imprisoned deep in the bowels of the Autobot base. He was no longer in pain at least, which meant his captors shut off his pain receptors to avoid causing him undue suffering or, more likely, the soft-sparked fool repaired him in some misplaced sense of altruism. Not that he was complaining, but such selfless nobility was disgusting, not to mention dangerous. He was disarmed, of course; that much was to be expected. It would have been a source of endless shame that the war lasted so long against opponents that did not even have the wits to remove the weapons from the possession of a prisoner. All was still but for a faint humming, possibly of machinery, and the muffled clang of distant movement.

Satisfied that his current condition was secure, Starscream onlined his optics. The next moment they were off again. Surely he was seeing things, _surely_ Primus wouldn't be so cruel as to put Skyfire, the very last mech he wanted to see in the entire _universe_ right now, just outside his cell. He peeked again. Apparently Primus did have it out for him because there Skyfire sat, ignoring him entirely and focusing his attention on a data pad.

Frag.

He wiggled his foot around to make sure it was in good working order and stood. The cell was larger than he expected but not overly spacious. He tried not to dwell on that as the claustrophobia natural to all fliers would quickly drive him to hysterics and he did _not_ need to show any _more_ weakness to these Autobots.

'_But there's only Skyfire,'_ whispered a treasonous voice in the back of his head. _'No Autobots or Decepticons to put on a show of bravado for.'_

Starscream pushed that thought out of mind and studied the bars across his prison. He quickly discovered that they were the source of the soft thrum that permeated the air when he touched one and received a painful jolt for his troubles. The bars were charged with an electrical current, strong enough to elicit a hiss of pain from him but too mild to be fatal unless he held onto them for an extended period of time.

Throughout all this, Skyfire's optics did not once waver from the data pad. If anything, his attention was even more focused on it. He was _pointedly_ ignoring him, Starscream realized, immediately taking offense. In retaliation, he settled back against the wall and proceeded to try to burn a hole in the side of Skyfire's head with the sheer force of his glare.

Seeing that this was ineffective, he spoke. "What, pray tell," he snapped sardonically, "is so fascinating about that particular point on that data pad that it has occupied your undivided attention for the past breem?"

Finally, Skyfire looked up. "It's a human novel," he said tonelessly. "_The Great Gatsby_-"

"You are not reading it," Starscream interrupted. "You are only pretending, and very poorly, I might add. You have been staring at the exact same spot since I started paying attention and have not, to my knowledge, altered the viewing screen once since I came back online."

"What makes you so sure of that?" The utter dispassion with which he spoke was slightly unnerving.

"Because I can see and hear. Surely, as a fellow scientist, you understand the importance of observa-"

"You're not a scientist anymore," Skyfire cut in angrily. Finally, some emotion. "You're just a murderer."

"What else would you expect to find in a war?" Starscream asked without skipping a beat.

"I don't mean the war."

Starscream scoffed. "I see the Autobots have been telling you about the Council."

"What were you thinking?" Skyfire demanded. "To slaughter the Council– You're the entire reason this war started in the first place!"

"There's never just _one_ reason for anything," Starscream corrected silkily, smoothly adopting a cool façade though his thoughts were a tumult. "Things were bound to go eventually. I just… quickened the pace. I expect historians will call me a catalyst-"

"Only if they're inordinately polite," Skyfire muttered. "What were you thinking? Why would you _do_ someth-"

"Why? _Why?_" Starscream shrieked, all carefully cultivated pretense of civility forgotten as a hundred twenty thousand vorns of frustration and sorrow and rage exploded outward in an all-consuming fury. "_Why?_ They _killed_ you, yet you defend them? Oh, don't be so shocked, Skyfire," he practically spat out. "I'm not you, but I am no fool. I could connect the dots and had _plenty_ of time to do so.

"You may have jettisoned as much of the ship as you could, but it wasn't enough. Everything short of the blast doors outside the main hangar was blown off. The ship was provided by the Council itself—it could not have escaped their notice that it was packed to the brim with _explosives._ You were not their primary target but you sealed your fate by insisting that you accompany me. You were… _collateral damage_ in their desperate effort to preserve the status quo. You _know_ this, yet you _still_ defend them?" He was on his feet, though he did not remember rising.

"Of course," Skyfire answered immediately, sharply, also standing. "Even murderers deserve to be treated fairly-"

"And how would that have brought justice?" Starscream snapped. "Would you have had me go to the courts? They owned the courts. The media? Who would believe the word of a lowly war-make over that of the _benevolent_ Council? There could be none of _your_ kind of justice, Skyfire."

"But what you did isn't justice either! It's only wanton destruction! And then the Decepticons-"

"Do you plan to argue politics whose nuances you do not fully understand? I think you'll find that _anything_ can be rationalized, Skyfire."

"Maybe so, but I understand enough to know that the Decepticons resort to violence and terrorism where peace and diplomacy could prevail, and no amount of rationalization can offset that! Did you plan the massacre at your execution as well?"

"I planned to _die!_" Starscream howled. "I planned to murder the Council and go straight to the _Pit!_ I didn't _ask_ Megatron to burst in and start shooting, I didn't _ask_ to become a symbol to his cause, I didn't _ask_ to _live!_" He suddenly grew quiet. "But I _did,_ thanks to Primus or the Unmaker or whatever _else_ may be out there, and I realized that the blame did not lie solely with the Council.

"The irony of it all is delicious." Each word was spat out with a gleeful vindictiveness. "If _they_ hadn't treated war-makes like scum, you wouldn't have died in my place and I wouldn't have become what I am now."

"Then all this," Skyfire said slowly, "all the sparks you've extinguished, all the horrors you've caused… It's all been for _revenge?_"

"Yes," Starscream said without a hint of remorse.

"Then you have changed more than I realized," he declared, optics growing cold. "The Starscream _I_ knew was not a fool who would throw away his life for something so petty."

Starscream's optics were hard. "_You_ have not changed a bit. How could you, preserved as you were outside of time for an eternity? The ravages of time stop for no mech. Things change, Skyfire." A deep, aching sorrow welled up inside him for a moment before it was ruthlessly crushed. "More than you can possibly imagine."

All was silent. "It appears that we are beyond reconciliation," Skyfire said finally.

Again, that desperate longing. "So it seems," he agreed evenly, shoving it back.

"Then I take my leave of you," he said, turning away. "I hope that the next time we meet we will both be more resolute." The recent repairs to his damaged leg gleamed and Starscream flinched inwardly.

Outwardly, he remained stoic. "You need not doubt my resolve."

"Nor mine." Without another word, Skyfire strode out the door and was gone.

---

A/N: A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

Anyway, did anyone catch that reference? _The Great Gatsby_ is totally the perfect metaphor for this situation and I am so proud of myself for coming up with it. Yes, I'm feeling smug.

Next week: Chapter 8: A Bold Bid for Freedom!—the entire reason I decided to title my chapters. And Ratchet does stuff, but that's not as exciting.

See you then!


	9. Chapter 8: Bid

Chapter Eight: A Bold Bid for Freedom

If Jazz hadn't been so shocked himself he would have been amused to note that Prowl was gaping. Hugely.

"That was… unexpected," he said eventually.

"Unexpected…" Prowl echoed hollowly. "I salute you, Jazz. You have given new meaning to the word understatement."

Optimus Prime was silent, his features unreadable. He had come into the control room just as Starscream began to speak and watched, enthralled, as the drama unfolded. Finally, he spoke. "Sideswipe is in the brig watching Starscream?"

"Yeah, he went in right as Skyfire left."

"Good. I'm concerned about Skyfire's mental state. I'd like you to go check on him, Jazz."

"Can it wait a breem, Prime?" Ratchet came in just in time to hear the tail end of Optimus' orders. "I'd rather not have to explain this more than I have to."

"Go ahead, Ratchet," Optimus said.

"It's about Starscream. I ran some scans when he was in the med bay and I noticed an anomaly in his central processor."

"Is it damaged?" Prowl asked.

"Not exactly. A portion of it isn't connected properly. It's been knocked off kilter."

"Battle damage?" Prime guessed.

"Not _this_ battle. It's been this way for a long time. Vorns."

"How many vorns?" Jazz asked, a dawning understanding niggling at the back of his CPU. "A hundred twenty thousand?"

"Maybe," Ratchet answered. "It's hard to tell. It must have been drastic when it first happened, but his internal repair systems have been working at it. It's delicate work, though—it'll be many more vorns before he's functioning properly."

"Is that why he hasn't had a medic repair it?" Optimus asked. "The procedure would be too intricate for anyone to handle?"

"Not necessarily," Ratchet said. "It's subtle. I've got good equipment and experienced optics and I almost missed it. It's not improbable that those glitch-head Constructicons haven't noticed, which is good for us."

"Why is that?" Prowl asked.

"The damaged part of Starscream's CPU is the portion which deals with the regulation of emotion," he explained. "Without it intact, he's bipolar and prone to severe mood swings, which impairs his decision-making ability, especially in the long-term. He's unstable, but he's still proven to be _highly_ effective against us. I hate to release a patient while he's still damaged, but I'd hate to see what kind of damage he could do if he's level-headed even more."

They stared in silence at the screen where Starscream sat, glaring at Sideswipe, and contemplated this. Such would not bode well for the Autobots.

Optimus Prime sighed. "There's really nothing we can do about this."

"I know," Ratchet replied, "but it's important enough that you have to know."

"Yes, thank you." With no available options, Prime turned back to his two top officers. "Jazz, go talk to Skyfire. Prowl, go draw up a list of items we need that the Decepticons may have. I need to see if I can contact Megatron to arrange a trade."

---

Starscream stood. His time was almost up and it was vital that he not miss this opportunity.

The red Autobot glowered at him but he ignored him with a practiced ease, casting a cursory glance over the room. Nothing had changed. The bars across his cell still thrummed with energy. A gun, left by Skyfire in his haste to exit, was teetering on the near edge of the desk where his guard sat. It was well out of reach.

Starscream had shoved his… whatever it was he felt about the meeting with Skyfire to the side by plotting. He had no intention of sitting quietly like a good prisoner; unfortunately, the Autobots expected him to try something and were taking no chances. None that they were aware of, anyway. He had an ace in the hole, and it was set to go off in less than a breem.

The entire _Ark_ suddenly lurched as a dull boom rumbled throughout the ship and rattled it to its core. Starscream couldn't help but grin; they must have put his null rays near something explosive for them to detonate with such impressive results.

The Autobot, caught off guard, staggered to his feet and stumbled against the electrically charged bars, yelping in surprised pain as the current ran through him. Starscream was upon him in an instant. He grabbed the nearest part of the Autobot, which happened to be an arm, and pulled it into the cell, dragging his guard against the bars. The yelp turned into a tortured, high-pitched keening. He flailed wildly, trying to shake off Starscream's iron grip, but succeeded only in overturning the desk, sending the gun clattering to the ground. Some excess electricity surged into him from the writhing Autobot, but he winced and bore it and held fast.

Something shorted. The Autobot fell silent and stopped struggling, slumping limply to the floor. Starscream dropped his arm and narrowed his optics at the gun on the ground. It looked to be within reach. Trying to ignore the shock that lanced through him when he reached between the bars, he grabbed the gun and held it triumphantly aloft. He shot out a few of the bars and squeezed out of his cell.

Now for the hard part. He had no idea how the Autobot base was laid out and thus did not know the quickest way to the nearest exit. Wandering blindly among his enemies armed only with a rifle was not an appealing idea, but what choice did he have?

Starscream jumped to the side as the door was flung open wide and the yellow Autobot that helped capture him burst in. "Sideswipe!" he cried in shock before noticing the empty cell and whirling about, optics hard with rage. By that time, though, Starscream was nearly upon him. There followed a vicious struggle that ended when Starscream pushed him to the ground with his knee and held his stolen gun to his optic.

"Well?" the Autobot challenged fearlessly. "Finish it."

"Don't tempt me, Autobot," Starscream sneered, cocking the gun threateningly. "Fortunately for you, you're more use to me online."

"Whatever it is, the answer is no."

Starscream had to admit the mech had guts. Experience had taught him that staring down the barrel of a blaster at such close range was unnerving, to say the least, but he didn't budge.

"Is that so?" He pointed the gun at the red Autobot. "What a shame."

The yellow Autobot tensed. Barely, but unmistakably. He had him.

"What do you want?" he said finally and with great difficulty.

Starscream smirked. "The layout of the Autobot base and I want it _now._" No sense in giving him time to tamper with it.

Astroseconds passed. Starscream narrowed his optics and noticeably twitched his finger against the trigger. The Autobot tensed even more and the information was his in an instant. The map was unlabeled and slightly fuzzy around the edges, but it was too detailed to have been fabricated so quickly.

"There, now that wasn't so hard."

There was the screech of metal. The Autobot's finger digits were digging into the floor.

After debating for a moment, Starscream swiftly disconnected several wires in the Autobot's neck, putting him in a forced stasis. There was no use wasting invaluable ammunition on an opponent who was already incapacitated. He plotted his course on the map, taking care to avoid the main thoroughfares of the base, and darted out into the corridor with new confidence.

---

Jazz shoved past several curious and irate mechs and burst into the control room. "Prowl, we gotta problem."

"Which problem would that be?" Prowl almost snapped. "If it's the shortage of space in the med bay there's nothing we can do about it and I'm currently trying to restore power to the sections of the _Ark_ that were cut off by the explosion."

"Is the brig among those sections? 'Cause the blast was caused by Starscream's null rays."

In unison, they turned to the security monitors. Several of them were blank or fuzzy, but the destruction in the brig was clearly defined.

Prowl crossed the room in an instant and began barking orders to those gathered outside. "You five, go barricade the exits. You and you, get the twins from the brig and take them to Ratchet. The rest of you, search the _Ark_ from top to bottom and stay alert. Starscream has escaped."

---

Starscream ducked into a room until the clanking steps of two or three Autobots passed by outside. This was proving to be _very_ difficult. Autobots were _everywhere, _which was hardly surprising since this was their headquarters, but it was fragging inconvenient. Sharp audio sensors and vorns of experience with keeping in the blind spots of security cameras had saved him thus far, but that could only last so long.

And it seemed his time of good fortune was up. He rounded a corner and nearly ran right into a red minibot, whose optics flickered in surprise before he proceeded to pull a fragging _cannon_ out of _nowhere._ The moment's hesitation was his undoing, however, and he fell, offline and smoking from two shots.

Starscream cursed. The security cameras would not have failed to capture that. He dashed out into the open to grab the cannon and ran.

---

"Found him!" Jazz shouted across the room to Prowl. "He just turned into D-4. Fraggit, he got Cliffjumper!"

Prowl passed on the information to the other Autobots and asked, "Why haven't we seen him before? Most of the cameras in that sector are still functional." Then it struck him and he almost groaned aloud. "He's hiding in the blind spots."

Jazz whistled, impressed in spite of himself. "Sneaky slagger. Red's CPU's gonna fry again when he hears about this." Suddenly he frowned and looked around.

"Where's Prime?"

---

Starscream darted around a corner and dove under a camera's range. He didn't have far to go, just a few more corridors and he'd be free. He'd been lucky enough to avoid anyone who came near him since the minibot. Maybe he'd be lucky–

There was the sound of laser fire and the wall behind him exploded.

---

"There," Prowl said, pointing at a fuzzy screen. It showed Prime stepping through what was left of his door. "That area is badly affected by the explosion. He must have been trapped in his quarters."

---

Starscream took one look at the looming figure of Optimus Prime and decided a tactical retreat was in order, but only because his two stolen weapons were probably almost dead. That Prime looked to be in a towering bad mood had nothing to do with the fact that he was tearing through the Ark as if the Unmaker himself was at his heels.

---

"There's Starscream!" Jazz yelled at Prowl. "He's headed for the south exit!"

"Very quickly," Prowl noted.

"Prime's on his tailfins. Wouldn't _you_ be runnin'?"

Prowl nodded once in understanding and sent instructions to all available Autobots to converge on the south exit.

"The camera's out," Jazz said. "Who's positioned there?"

"Mirage."

---

There it was! Starscream could see the clear blue sky, feel it calling to him. Turning, he emptied the cannon into the walls and ceiling of the hallway, creating a huge blockade of rubble that would hopefully delay even the mighty Optimus Prime for at least a little bit.

He started to run for the exit but slowed, suspicious. No one was there. Surely his escape warranted at least one guard at each exit to–

He shrieked in surprise as his recently repaired leg was shot out from under him. "You would do well not to move," advised an unsubstantiated voice. "You are fortunate that our medic's services are required for others or I would have aimed elsewhere. Drop your weapons."

The blast and the voice came from ahead and slightly to the right. Behind him, muted voices were coming through his impromptu barrier.

"_Now._"

Starscream stalled as long as he could, slowly lowering the useless cannon to the ground.

The next shot skimmed across his wing and he howled in agony as white-hot pain sizzled through the delicate sensors.

"I will not ask again," the voice said impassively. Starscream's lips pulled back into a silent snarl.

Then the barrier exploded. Smoke and dust filled the air, Autobots poured over the rubble, and in the confusion, Starscream dove. By the time the dust settled, he was standing in front of the exit with his arm around Mirage's neck and the blaster to the side of his head.

No one moved. No one spoke. Starscream took an unsteady step backwards with his hostage and the Autobots tensed. Everything was still for a moment and he slowly began moving back again. No one stopped him.

When he had enough clearance, he halted. Starscream glared at his hostage, thinking of his throbbing wing. His finger twitched longingly against the trigger, but he looked at all the Autobots just a few meters away. What if Skyfire was among them? Not that it mattered what the enemy thought of him, of course, but it would not help to enrage them when he was so heavily outnumbered.

Without a word he transformed, barely, painfully, and rocketed off into the distance.

---

"Uh, Prime?" Silverbolt said a bit warily. "All the Aerialbots are here. Should we pursue?"

Optimus stared at the rapidly retreating Seeker. Even with a damaged wing and thruster, his speed was incredible. "No," he replied, looking back through the slightly smoking entrance to the _Ark._ "I think that would be more trouble than it's worth."

---

A/N: This chapter was so much fun to write. I'm not sure that the amounts of fun had were legal.

We're about halfway there folks. I've got it figured so that there will be 13 chapters plus a prologue and an epilogue. Thanks for sticking around this long.

-BlackMarketTrombones


	10. Chapter 9: Aftermath

Chapter Nine: Aftermath

"He got away," Jazz said in disappointment. "Frag."

"Indeed," Prowl agreed, optics narrowed at the monitors.

The door opened and Sunstreaker limped in. "Sunstreaker!" Jazz called out jovially, immediately sensing from the warrior's tense expression that all was not well. "How ya doin'? Looked like 'Screamer did a real number on ya."

"This is not right," Prowl said with a frown, tracing Starscream's progress through the _Ark._ "It's too perfect, as if he knew exactly where to go."

"That's because he did." Sunstreaker folded his arms across his chestplate and scowled defensively when his officers turned to stare at him.

"Explain," Prowl said flatly.

Sunstreaker glared at them. "He was gonna shoot Sideswipe," he said gruffly.

Realization suddenly struck Jazz. "What did'ja give him, Sunstreaker?"

He continued to glower, his hostility palpable. "A map."

"A map," Prowl repeated, a trace of astonishment leaking through his customary stoic demeanor.

"Of the _base?_" Jazz asked, horrified.

Sunstreaker's optics flickered back and forth between Jazz and Prowl, his entire demeanor resembling that of a cornered animal preparing itself to fight. "It was blank and I attached a decaying virus to it, but I didn't have time to-" He stopped abruptly and was silent a moment before continuing. "It was accurate."

A stunned silence filled the room. "Are you aware of what you've done?" Prowl demanded sternly.

Sunstreaker stood at perfect attention and met his optics squarely. "Yes," he said without a hint of regret.

"Well, Prowl," Jazz said, standing up, "I have never envied you're position as chief of disciplinary action less. I'm gonna go help dig out some of the mechs who were trapped in the explosion – _you_ can deal with this mess."

---

Even when it was apparent that the Autobots were no longer in pursuit, Starscream did not slow his relentless pace. The damage he sustained made flying at such a speed tricky if not outright dangerous, but he needed something to keep his mental processes occupied.

Megatron would not be pleased about his prolonged absence. It would take something momentous to appease his anger. With this in mind, he called up the blueprint he'd forced from the Autobot and noticed that it was noticeably less complete than the last time he'd checked.

A decaying virus. That was more amusing than anything. He simply made an uncorrupted copy of the file and used his impeccable memory to fill in the damaged portions. Easy.

---

"You guys go on ahead," Jazz told the others, noting that the corridor they were working on was mostly clear. "I'll move on." They obediently began gathering up the damaged Autobots they'd found and he left for the next hallway.

This one was a mess. It would take joors to sift through the wreckage by conventional means, and a quick scan indicated that the only mech there was trapped in the farthest possible spot. Feeling impatient, Jazz just whipped out a blaster and used it to blaze a trail through the debris.

He reached the end of the corridor before the others returned and pried open the door there. "Hello?" he called out, brightening his optics to see in the dim light.

No one answered so he stepped through the doorway, assuming that whoever the signal belonged to was offline. Behind him, the precariously balanced rubble collapsed into his narrow pathway, sealing off the room again. "I coulda planned that better," he muttered to himself, turning on his alt mode's headlights so he could see.

The room was trashed. Very little of the damage seemed to be directly engendered by the explosion, but everything that wasn't attached to the floor was busted and knocked over and the walls were dented and scoured. In a corner sat Skyfire, curled up with his legs hugged to his chest and his face buried in his knee joints.

"Skyfire?" he called out, concerned.

Slowly, unfocused blue optics rose. "Jazz?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Yeah, it's me." He scrambled across the room and brushed his hand lightly against a massive wing. "Y'okay?"

A cross between a humorless laugh and a shudder shook his huge frame. "I'm a flier. And I've been trapped in a dark, enclosed space…" This time it was just a shudder, and Jazz noticed that his hands were ripped and torn. That explained the destruction in the room, but it almost certainly wasn't the whole truth.

"Ya sure that's the only reason?" he said lightly, settling himself against the wall next to Skyfire. "Doesn't have anything to do with findin' that ya indirectly caused a war?"

Skyfire glared at him balefully. "You eavesdropped."

"Yep. Can ya blame me? Ya haven't exactly been completely honest with us, Skyfire."

"How could I?" He turned away and hid his face again. "It's only been a few orns for me. It's too fresh."

All was silent for a bit and Skyfire began trembling slightly, claustrophobia setting in without the distraction of conversation.

"Starscream broke out," Jazz said casually. It did the trick; Skyfire's attention snapped back to him. "It was quite a darin' escape. No fatalities, thank Primus. Perceptor an' Wheeljack are the worst off. They were closest to his null rays when they detonated."

"So it all comes back to Starscream," Skyfire muttered. "Jazz," he said after a moment. "I think I'd like to join the Autobots. If you'll have me, of course."

"Ya sure?" Jazz asked, though he was not truly surprised.

"Very."

"Ya missed most of he war. Ya can't really get what it's all about." This much, at least, Starscream was right about.

"I can understand enough to recognize that their way is wrong. Knowing this, how could I fail to stand up for what is right?"

If it wasn't such a serious moment, Jazz would have grinned. Skyfire was Autobot material, through and through. "I don't think you'll have trouble gettin' the others to let'cha join. They like ya. You're not tainted by warfare. Ya remind us of before. Tell me," he said, fully aware that he shouldn't pry but also that he needed to find out for certain, "what Starscream said—was it true? About… everything."

For a long time Skyfire did not speak. "The Council proposed the expedition, suited so perfectly to his tastes," he said softly. "I was only reluctantly permitted to accompany him after we both insisted. They provided the ship we traveled in and had their chief engineer inspect it. I found the explosives hidden in the paneling shortly before they were set to go off. There can be no other explanation."

"Ah." Jazz sighed and leaned back. There was nothing he could say to make any of it better. He had lost friends he had been willing to die for but he had never forced himself to sever all ties with one. He was unable to fathom the depths of Skyfire's sorrow and loss and never would be, Primus willing. "Well, it was nice while it lasted."

"What was?" Skyfire asked dully.

"Bein' able to blame someone else for everything that's gone wrong. Turns out the only time we all worked together was to bring this down on ourselves."

---

A/N: BlackMarketTrombones: Filling your angst quota for the week.

Sunstreaker took forever to get right. He's hard. And moody.

I am so tired I almost forgot to update. When I remembered, I almost just put off updating until tomorrow. Then I thought of **Starfire 201**, **Meirelle**, and **Tugera** and all my other faithful fans and said, "These people come regularly every week just to read this story when they have other things they could be doing! Knowing this, can I do less?" So your reviews really do help. And I'm going to bed.


	11. Chapter 10: Welcome

Chapter Ten: A Warm Welcome

"'Screamer! Where ya been?" Skywarp called out jovially as Starscream landed in the hangar. "Megatron's blowin' a fuselage. Primus, what happened to ya?"

"Autobots," Starscream replied, feeling tired and grumpy as he limped toward the exit. "Many, many Autobots. Where's Megatron?"

"In the command room, which is why I'm not," he said, following Starscream into the hallway. "When you're not around, he takes out his frustration on anyone who's nearby."

"Nice to know I'm needed," he grumbled angrily, shaking Skywarp's hand off his elbow joint. "I do _not_ need help!"

"Easy, 'Screamer." Skywarp raised his hands and ducked his head to hide his smirk. "Just thought'cha might wanna get there quick. Megatron's pretty steamed you've been missin' so long."

"I will get there perfectly fine on my own," he snapped. "Don't you have more important things to be doing?"

"Probably, but none of them are this interesting."

As if on cue, Megatron's voice came rumbling down the corridor.

"_Where is he?_" he bellowed. Starscream quickened his pace. "I want that traitorous coward _found! _I want everyone, every single Decepticon on this miserable planet, to get out there and _bring Starscream to me!_"

Starscream took a moment to arrange his face into an arrogant smirk and sauntered into the command room.

"All that just for me Megatron?" he called out impishly, relishing in the variety of reactions elicited by his sudden appearance. "I didn't know you cared."

"Starscream!" he roared, optics ablaze. "_Where have you been?_"

"I assure you, mighty leader, it was not by choice that I have been away from your charming presence," he drawled. "I was at the Autobot base."

"You were captured?" His optics narrowed suspiciously. "What secrets did you sell them in exchange for your freedom?"

"Oh ye of little faith. I sprang myself."

"You expect me to believe you escaped from the center of enemy territory with nothing but your wits?" Megatron sneered.

"Your confidence in me is astonishing. That is exactly what happened. I admit I was lucky, though. They must have put my null rays near something explosive." He smirked gleefully. "The blast when they detonated was impressive. I require supplies to build new ones, by the way." He cocked his head impudently. "You look like you still doubt me, Megatron."

"I believe you," he grumbled. "You're too arrogant to pretend you were captured by _Autobots._" He spat the word out like a curse. "What sort of intelligence did you gather?"

"I can tell you anything you want to know about the area between the exit and the brig." Megatron was taking this surprisingly well and he might need a bargaining chip in the future. That was the _only_ reason he didn't tell him about the map.

"You mean to tell me," Megatron said dangerously, "that you were loose in the Autobot base and you didn't try to learn _anything_ of value?"

"My _sincerest_ apologies, mighty Megatron," Starscream said, drenching the air with sarcasm. "Next time I'm running blindly, outnumbered and outgunned, through the heart of enemy territory with only two stolen weapons of moderate strength and every functioning Autobot in the vicinity hunting for me, I'll be sure to keep in mind that I should scout the area for intelligence in my spare time."

Megatron glared at him. "I want a full report on this incident as soon as possible," he growled.

"Certainly, Megatron," Starscream said, smooth as silk. "If you'll send someone by my quarters in a few breem I'll have you a copy of the entire… incident, as you put it."

"A copy? Of your memories?" Megatron looked startled. It was amusing. "What happened to the 'sanctity of your mind'?" he sneered, quoting his Air Commander's outraged argument when he refused to copy his memories on previous occasions.

Starscream glowered. "I am tired, Megatron," he snapped. "I'm tired and I want be in recharge. I would be right now if you weren't throwing such a tantrum." He turned away and looked back over his shoulder with a cocky tilt to his head. "I'll be in my quarters," he called back haughtily. "It'll be ready in a few breems."

He casually strolled away, taking care to use his damaged leg normally. It hurt like the Pit, but he had appearances to keep up.

One agonizing trek later, he flopped down in front of his computer and began uploading images. Certain portions of the escapade had to be tampered with. Skyfire's presence was edited out entirely, making it seem as though he had come online to the red Autobot. The map was harder to deal with; he couldn't simply erase it because the time skip would be noticed. In the end, he just blurred the memory to the point where it would be impossible to discern anything other than the bare basics. It wasn't perfect but it was the best he could do in such a short amount of time.

No sooner had he finished burning the completed product onto a disk than Skywarp teleported in.

"You done yet, 'Screamer?" he asked as Starscream sprawled across the recharge berth. "Megs sent me to get the goods."

"By the computer," Starscream grunted, waving a tired hand in the direction of the disk.

A few moments of silence, the, "Primus, 'Screamer, ya need to get captured more often. You slagged the Autobots harder in their own base than ya do on the battlefield!"

"Go 'way," he grumbled. "You downloaded it? Megatron will not be pleased."

"He won't find out."

"I highly doubt that."

"Aw, what does it matter anyway, 'Screamer? The whole base'll know within a joor."

Starscream shrugged. "It's your skidplate. Now get out of here, I'm trying to recharge." He frowned. "And stop calling me 'Screamer!"

"Sure thing, 'Screamer," he said, teleporting away with a smirk.

"…Glitch-head," he muttered, shuttering his optics only to find that recharge would not come.

He rolled onto his side for a moment before flopping back on his front with a groan. The burn on his wing was still painful. He'd have to get the Constructicons to look at it because he couldn't reach it himself. That would not be enjoyable. Those slaggers _knew_ how sensitive a flier's wings were but made no effort to be the least bit delicate. Vorns ago, when he injured himself in lab experiments gone awry, Skyfire always knew to-

Starscream hissed and jumped up, deliberately putting weight on his damaged leg to distract himself from that particular train of thought. The attempt was ineffective; Skyfire refused to stay banished to the back of his central processor any longer.

Why did he have to come back? Starscream began pacing the familiar path across his room. Why did he have to come back and dig up things that had been buried for vorns? It was easier when it was us against them, or rather, him against everyone else because he didn't trust the other Decepticons for slag. Trust was what killed Skyfire in the first place, and the Decepticons were only ever the most effective way to get revenge.

'_Revenge for what?'_ That fragging voice sounded very amused. _'Skyfire is alive and well.'_

Starscream growled aloud. Being stuck with a bunch of fragging _Autobots_ was not what he would call well.

'_He's there by choice,'_ the voice continued smoothly, _'and it's only a matter of time before he decides to remain with them permanently.'_

Starscream snarled but did not argue. Of course he would join the Autobots. They were in the right in Skyfire's mind and he never failed to stand up for what he thought was right, even when the entire Cybertronian science community ridiculed him for allowing his work to be demeaned by a mere war-mech.

And Skyfire expected him to be able to treat him as an enemy. How could he, when he was the only one who ever believed in him, treated him as an equal, respected but did not fear him? His only friend even now.

Starscream flung himself back on the recharge berth and tried to force himself to relax. Needless to say, he was unsuccessful. Skyfire had probably hoped he could convince him to atone for his crimes. That was just his particular brand of naivety, believing that reconciliation was always possible if mechs would only set aside their pride and take the time to try to _understand_ each other. Starscream had almost believed him once, but things weren't so simple anymore. Even Skyfire couldn't undo a hundred thousand vorns of hatred in just a few orns.

---

A/N: I have discovered that it is incredibly fun to write interaction between Starscream and Megatron.

Also, I made an error a few weeks ago in saying that there will be 13 chapters plus a prologue and epilogue. I should have said there will be 13 chapters _including_ a prologue and epilogue, and even that number is subject to change.

It has recently come to my attention (thanks to a review from **Naphtali Phoenix**) that I have committed a grievous sin against Perceptor (which is apparently not spelled "Percepter"). I'll go back and fix everything ASAP.


	12. Chapter 11: Resolve

Chapter Eleven: Resolve

Skyfire eased into the recharge berth in his borrowed room—ke'd completely trashed his own in his panic; fortunately, or perhaps not, so many Autobots were in the med bay that there was plenty of space to spare. He regretted ruining his hands. Ratchet patched him up with ease, of course, but the medic was obviously exhausted and without chance of a recharge cycle in sight as more damaged mechs were pulled from the rubble deep in the _Ark._

He examined the immaculate repairs for a moment before covering his face, remembering what Ratchet had told him. CPU damage. Just when he thought things couldn't get any more convoluted.

From what Ratchet said, it was apparent that the explosion on the ship all those vorns ago was what had caused it. Skyfire knew the Seeker—it would take a greater shock to his system than battle to cause such deep, lasting damage. All his actions since then…

No. He would not entertain that notion. Starscream made his choices and nothing could excuse them. To forgive him would be… unacceptable, no matter how he longed to. It would be a travesty to negate all his exploits, to simply dismiss and forget his malice. It would diminish the meaning of the lives he had taken, the cities he'd razed. It would make them disappear.

At any rate, they were enemies now. He might have suggested it in anger but Starscream readily agreed. Soon enough he'd be an Autobot anyway, and duty-bound to devote himself entirely to the battle against the Decepticons. It was best that all ties between them were severed.

Starscream always used to tell him how terrible he was at lying. Apparently, that had not changed during his long, icy slumber. He couldn't even lie to himself. Despite everything he'd done, Starscream was his dearest friend and would always remain so, but some things were more important.

Feeling marginally less miserable for his resolve, Skyfire fell into a restless recharge that was plagued with memories.

---

Starscream was jolted from his uneasy recharge by a cannon blast.

"Again, Megatron?" he said sourly, scowling out into the corridor. "I thought we already discussed the merits of doorknobs."

"This file is damaged," Megatron said, ignoring the inevitable snarkiness as he brandished the disk at his mutinous Second.

"You jerked me out of recharge for _that?_" Starscream demanded, irritated. "I'd just had Primus-knows how many volts of electricity pumped into my systems! My entire memory is fuzzy for a _breem_ after that."

Megatron glared at him suspiciously, but Starscream was used to this and glared right back, unfazed. "Get your aft down to the repair bay," he growled finally, apparently realizing that no further information was forthcoming. "I want you operable within one of this planet's solar cycles."

"_One solar cycle?_ You _know_ my internal repairs systems aren't that fast!"

"Probably because they're too busy trying to repair that glitch you call a central processor!" Ignoring Starscream's snarl of outrage, he continued. "The Autobots are as weak as they've been in vorns. We cannot miss this opportunity. In half an orn we launch a direct assault on the Autobots and you _will_ lead from the air if half your circuitry is burnt out!" He stormed away and Starscream's seething indignation turned quickly to a mounting horror.

The Autobots were in shambles. They would not survive a full Decepticon assault. They would be utterly crushed. The war would be over, the Decepticons would win, everything he had spent the past hundred thousand vorns fighting for would prevail. It was perfect.

Or it should have been.

Skyfire would be wiped out along with the rest of them, that much was certain. He may not be an Autobot officially, but what Decepticon would take the time to notice, much less care if he did?

Everything he'd been fighting for… Justice. Equality. Revenge, as he told Skyfire, was certainly a motivating factor, but it couldn't be the only one. It was a lot, but it couldn't be enough.

It had been enough to kill of the Council all those vorns ago, but it wasn't enough to live for. That's what he told Megatron when he asked him to serve as the Air Commander and Second in Command of the Decepticons. Actually, he told him to slag off and let him die, but the result was the same.

He found new reasons to fight, new reasons to live. Justice. Equality. Slagging freedom for the entire Cybertronian race. He lived because he was needed.

But Skyfire… He was the ultimate root of the dilemma. It shouldn't be a problem. The war started with his death, it would be poetic for it to end with his death as well. Surely everything he'd fought for was worth more now, surely the past hundred thousand vorns weren't completely meaningless.

It was all so straightforward once the extraneous clutter was stripped away and the situation was down to its most basic level. No one could live by two principles even if they didn't conflict with each other. In order to achieve his new purpose, his old purpose had to be eliminated. It should be an easy choice; a hundred thousand vorns could only harden resolve.

It should be simple. It _was_ simple. Just one little decision.

Which was worth more: the cause or Skyfire?

---

A/N: Sorry this is so short. It's completely vital but is too long to go with this last chapter and the next chapter cannot have anything else because it's the last. Yes, we've reached the final stretch, folks. Only one more chapter and an epilogue and I'll have to find something else to do in my spare time.


	13. Chapter 12: Change

Chapter Twelve: The More Things Change…

Skyfire was pleased by how quickly he was accepted into the Autobot ranks. He knew it was because they were severely understaffed and in desperate need of any functioning mech available, but he was happy to be allowed to contribute in even the smallest capacity. Patrols were out of the question since he'd be a liability should a skirmish ensue, but he was regularly called upon to keep watch over the equipment that scanned the area surrounding the _Ark_ for enemy activity.

It was because of this that he was the first to know about the incoming signal.

"Prowl," he said the moment it came in range. "Someone's coming."

"Decepticon?" The tactician was at his side in an instant.

"Unless one of the Aerialbots snuck out."

"Hey, Prowl," a static-filled voice said over the radio. "Gotta bit of a problem out here."

"Is it a Decepticon?"

"Yep. Seeker too, from the look of it. S'hard to tell from here, but it looks like the coloration matches– Yeah, it's Starscream."

"He is alone? Are you under attack? What-?"

"Ease up, Prowler," Jazz interrupted. "We ain't under fire. He's just standin' there glarin' at us."

"You gave up your position?"

"He's slaggin' fast. Came on too quick to hide."

Prowl frowned. "Do not attempt to engage unless fired upon. I'll assemble a task force to meet you in a breem."

"Might wanna include Skyfire with 'em. Starscream's demandin' to speak with him. Says he won't take anybody else."

"That would put Skyfire at great risk."

"Better make sure that force of yours is tough enough to discourage hostility, then."

And so Skyfire found himself standing before his old partner a breem later with every functioning Autobot warrior Prowl had managed to gather at his back.

"All this for me?" Starscream said fearlessly, cocking his head at the mass of Autobots with a sneer. "I'm flattered, but you needn't have bothered. I have no intention of attacking you today."

"Then why have you come?" Skyfire asked, pleased that his voice remained level. Impassively, Starscream tossed him a disk. "What's this?"

"Plans," he said casually. "Tactics. Weaknesses. Anything that might give you a chance of surviving when the Decepticons attack in a quarter-orn."

Skyfire ignored the whispering that broke out behind him and narrowed his optics suspiciously at the proud Seeker. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Starscream snapped. "I'm defecting."

He seemed very pleased by the utter shock that roiled off the assembled Autobots. "D-defecting?" Skyfire stammered. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, please. Don't try to act stupid, Skyfire. It doesn't suit you."

"But you _hate_ Autobots! Why would you give information to your enemies?"

"I'm not giving it to _them,_" he hissed. "I'm giving it to _you._ What you do with it is your own accord."

"I _am_ an Autobot," Skyfire pointed out.

"I noticed," Starscream said, glaring at the insignia on his chest plate with distaste.

They stared at each other for a moment, the air perfectly still until Starscream finally broke the silence.

"I'm leaving now." He turned away slightly and looked up. "The farther I am from Megatron when he finds out the better." A flicker of anxiety crossed his features, but it was gone in an instant.

"We can't trust him," someone muttered to a chorus of agreement.

"Of course you can't," Starscream said smoothly. "You'd be fools to trust me after all I've done. Fortunately, _you_ don't have to."

"Why should _I_ trust you?" Skyfire asked, suspicious.

Another flash of emotion, of frustration and irritation and what seemed almost like hurt, gone more quickly than the first. "Feh. You act as if the Decepticons need another advantage over you." The Autobots bristled at that but he ignored them entirely and continued quietly. "Plus I already killed you once. I have no desire to do so a second time."

Skyfire wasn't sure what to say to that. "You… are leaving, then?"

"Did you expect me to stay? _They_ wouldn't have me if I wanted to, and I _won't_ fight alongside _Autobots_ anyway. But…" His voice softened and Skyfire almost didn't hear. "I won't fight against you."

"Why not?" Skyfire demanded almost angrily. "You've already killed so many—what difference would one more make?"

"A surprising amount, as it turns out," Starscream said dryly. "I don't expect you to understand. We're different, you and I. It's in our programming. You were designed for peace and I for war. You're willing to die for your comrades, I know, but would you be willing to kill for them?" The silence that followed was answer enough. "I thought not."

No one spoke. "You were the last mech I ever expected to fall in with such stereotypes," Skyfire said slowly.

"Things change."

"I've been made very aware of that, believe me."

Starscream's optics narrowed. "You still doubt my intentions."

"I simply fail to see why, on the eve of your triumph, you would so suddenly decide to defect from the position of status and power you have enjoyed for the past hundred thousand vorns."

Starscream's face was distant but carefully impassive. "You never did realize…" he murmured so quietly that Skyfire was not sure he was meant to hear, "how much it mattered that you believed in me…"

Shocked, hopeful, yearning, Skyfire stepped forward and held out a tentative hand, but the moment was gone and Starscream was all sharp edges and hard angles and gleaming weaponry again.

"I've tarried here too long," he said, turning to face the open sky dispassionately. "I'm leaving. I won't bother you anymore, not as long as you don't bother me."

"Where will you go?" Skyfire asked, unable to keep the sorrow out of his voice.

The rumble of turbines. "Somewhere else. Somewhere I can spend the rest of my life in anonymity." The next instant he was gone, a mere speck streaking away overhead.

More than a little hurt by his sudden departure, Skyfire could only stare, ignoring the tumultuous outcry behind him. "Goodbye… Starscream."

---

A/N: CLIMAX! Yay. :)

You can blame this chapter for the entire story. The whole plot sprang up around Starscream's little "I won't fight with them but I won't fight against you" moment.

Yes, I know I'm a sucker for drama.

Next week: The End! It seems like it came so fast…

--Grrrr, I have been trying to post this for hours, and the site won't let me! And I worked so hard to make sure this chapter was ready in time, too. :( Sorry about the delay, I'll have to hope this time works.


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue: ...The More Things Stay the Same

"Alright!" Jazz stepped back to admire the paneling he and a few other Autobots had just spent the better part of a joor repairing. "Looks like we've done all we can here. Catch ya later!" He sauntered off, whistling tunelessly as he looked for another project to join in on.

The _Ark_was in a flurry of activity. Few were willing to believe the Decepticon Air Commander had turned over a new leaf, but none could deny the Autobots' current vulnerability to attack. Every mech able to wield a tool kit—not to mention plenty who couldn't—was working to make the _Ark_ more defensible.

On a whim, Jazz turned into the residential area of the base and ducked into the room being used by Skyfire. "How's it goin'?" he called out cheerfully as the flier looked up from his work.

"Very well." Skyfire turned back to the computer isolated from the _Ark_'s mainframe at Red Alert's hysterical insistence. "It's taken a while, but I'm almost done."

"It'd go faster if ya'd let someone help ya," Jazz pointed out, but Skyfire shook his head.

"The files are heavily encrypted," he explained with the weariness of one who has already done so numerous times. "We created the code when it became apparent that some scientists were trying to steal our work."

"An' he still uses it? Who knew Starscream was so sentimental."

"I doubt it." Skyfire sounded almost disappointed. "This code has baffled some of the most brilliant minds on Cybertron. It's very secure."

"Anything new?" Jazz asked, steering clear of the topic Skyfire so obviously did not wish to discuss.

"Nothing useful. He thinks someone named Shockwave may show up if Megatron wants to be especially certain to crush us but we shouldn't worry about him because he 'can't shoot for slag.'"

Jazz laughed. "Ain't that the truth. Int'restin' thing about this info is a lot of it we already know—he just puts an unusual spin on it."

"This is useful, then?"

"Very. S'always good to get an insider's point of view."

"But if you already had this information…"

"Not all of it. Not even most of it. Plus we might know of a technique or ability but not all the ways it can be used against us. Trust me, that disk's a gold mine."

Skyfire stopped and looked back at Jazz. "You believe this information is accurate then?" he asked in a voice as emotionless as stone.

"Ya don't have much faith in your old partner, I see," he said, carefully jovial.

"We did not part on the best of terms."

Jazz nodded, thoughtful, sympathetic. "The info correlates with our intel. It seems legit. Don't know why he'd bother sabotagin' us when we were already slagged half to the Pit anyway. You know, Skyfire, maybe he didn't say goodbye 'cause he plans to keep in touch."

"Maybe," Skyfire said, but he didn't sound convinced.

"Almost done?" Jazz asked, abruptly changing the subject.

"Just a few more lines…"

Jazz watched Skyfire's fingers falter on the keyboard and looked back to the screen. The text, translated into understandable Cybertronian, was simple: a set of coordinates and the words 'For Emergencies Only.'

"What a perfect hiding place," Skyfire murmured. Jazz listened closely, bursting with curiosity. "We stumbled upon it by accident on the expedition here. A dead asteroid in the middle of a belt with a core of pure energon. We landed there to make repairs after part of the ship was eaten and he went exploring. The scanners didn't register the energon—the asteroid was made of a strange mineral compound that blocked it. We were going to analyze samples of it when we had proper equipment back on Cybertron. It's not far from here…" He trailed off, hopeful, then an anxious expression crossed his face as he turned to the saboteur.

Jazz made a quick decision. "Ya know," he said slowly, "That's not really all that pertinent right now. Whadda ya say we keep this to ourselves? Wouldn't wanna bother Prowl with irrelevant info, what with all the preparations an' such."

Skyfire's expression cleared. "That sounds reasonable to me," he said gratefully, deleting that information and copying the rest of it for Prowl. "Jazz?" he said after a moment. "Do you think we'll ever win this war?"

Jazz chuckled. "What, a couple dozen orns an' you're sick of it already? Not that I blame ya. Might not've said yes those couple dozen orns ago," he said thoughtfully. "Might not say yes now, but after all that's happened since you popped up, I gotta say I'm more hopeful. An' really, what more can ya ask for?"

---

The End

---

A/N: That's all, folks.

The final count is 18,834 words, by far the longest thing I've ever written. It was fun, too, and I'm very proud of it. I know the ending sort of leaves you hanging, but as of right now, I have no plans for a sequel.

I went back and touched up some of the previous chapters, mostly formatting errors, though I discovered a few sins against the God of Spelling.

And now, thanks are in order.

Thank you to **Supermoose** for her diligent editing work and for beating me over the head with the stick of characterization and comma usage even when she knew I'd ignore her. Best. Sister. Ever.

Thank you to all of you who reviewed. I know I'm terrible about responding and that may make it seem that I don't care about your comments, but this could not be further from the truth. I hog the computer for hours after I post just so I can check for reviews (and yes, I do realize that's a bit pathetic).

Special thanks to **Meirelle** and especially **Starfire201 **for reviewing practically every chapter (it seems like **Starfire201** reviewed about three seconds after I posted each chapter). I'm amazed people can bear to stand in your presence through the sheer amounts of awesome you exude.

And finally, thank you to all of you who bothered to read this fic. There's a whole lot of good stuff out there, but you took the time to read this. Unless you also write, I doubt you understand quite how much that means to me.

Now to fulfill my end of a deal. My dear sister **Supermoose**, with whom I share my profile, has written a story. I enjoyed her story greatly, but she took freakin' _forever _to write it. A few days ago, we reached an agreement: if she would hurry up and finish it by the time I was ready to post this, I would plug it shamelessly in my author's note (hurrah for mutual bribery). She finished it (yay!), so I'm shamelessly plugging. It's about Beast Wars II, of which I know nothing except that Starscream is hilariously flamboyant, and I think you should read it. Go to our profile—it's called "Sometimes Words Are Not Enough."

Thanks for sticking around this long. I've got some vague story ideas floating around in my head, so we might be seeing each other again soon.

Until then,

--BlackMarketTrombones


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